Aftermath
by AngelicToxin
Summary: ”What if that was my grandmother? What if that was YOUR grandmother?” A continuation of Frenzy, we recommend reading that first, though this one can stand alone. A closer examination of each set of friends’ relationship.
1. Snowman

**Title: **Aftermath

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **"What if that was my grandmother? What if that was YOUR grandmother?" A continuation of Frenzy, we recommend reading that first, though this one can stand alone. A closer examination of each set of friends' relationship.

**Author's Note: **Another Miniola and Toxin collaboration, Aftermath is quite literally… the direct result of Frenzy. We just couldn't stop at the end. So, this will be a four part series of one-shots, each looking at one of the sets of friends. The first one is the one which left the deepest impression on our brains (along with some Calvin and Hobbes inspirations) – Specs and Dutchy.

**Warning: **Very implied, in some cases, almost actually slash. If you don't like slash… you probably shouldn't read it. Unless you like snowmen.

**Snowman**

"_DUTCHY!_" Snow fell from the tress at Specs' loud cry. He scowled angrily, waiting for the eccentric youth to appear. He didn't have to wait long.

"You called?" Dutchy popped out from the small workspace off the side of the garage, looking at his bespectacled friend. Specs motioned around the front lawn and driveway.

"Remember how we talked about me having a job? From which I earn money?" Specs questioned. Dutchy nodded enthusiastically, and Specs continued. "Well, to get to that job, I need to drive. And in order to drive, I have to get my car onto the street. And to do that, I use my driveway." Dutchy nodded again.

"So?"

"_So_, it's kind of hard to do that when my driveway is covered in little snowmen!" Specs sounded rather exasperated; Dutchy merely grinned.

"Aren't they _amazing_?"

"Not… really." Specs motioned towards his car again. "I have to run over them to get out."

"You can't do that!" Dutchy leapt towards the nearest one. "I named them!"

Specs gave him an odd look, and glanced at the numerous snowmen again. "You named them? All of them?"

"Of course I did!" Dutchy looked proud of himself. "See- that one over there is Blink."

"Why?" 

"Because it only has half a head," Dutchy noted, as if it should have been obvious. "Do you know how hard it is to build a snowman with only one eye? Half a head is much easier."

"Oookay." Specs nodded at two small snowmen. "And those?"

"Duh. Those are Race and Spot. Race is the one that's kinda fatter. I couldn't think of another way to tell them apart." Dutchy cocked his head thoughtfully, as if he was reconsidering his decision. Specs shook his head slowly.

"Wow. Dutch, those are something else."

"Oh! And see, that one over there is Mush, and there's Skittery! And Jack, David, and that one over there that's kinda lopsided," Dutchy motioned with his hand. "That one is Bumlets."

"Why?" Specs puzzled. Dutchy frowned.

"No idea. But that one is ME!" He pointed at the snowman near the mailbox. It was slightly larger then all of the others. "Aren't I pretty?"

"Very." Specs marveled at how Dutchy managed to get top grades in school.

"Oh! Oh!" Dutchy pointed at one of the snowmen in the middle of the driveway. "That one's you!"

Specs stared. "Uh, Dutch?"

"Yes, Specs?"

"I have to go to work. I have to run myself over to get there."

Dutchy gasped. "Vehicular suicide! No! I can't let you!" Moving from his spot on the lawn, he threw himself onto Specs- the real Specs, though he glanced at the snowman as he passed it.

"Dutchy, it's a snowman."

"But it's _you_."

"It's still a snowman." Specs slipped free of Dutchy's grasp.

"But it's _you_."

"Snowman."

"You."

"Snowman."

"You!"

"I have to get to work!" Specs headed towards his van. Dutchy tagged along behind him.

"I don't wanna stand outside to witness your death. Take me with you!" He hopped into the passenger side of the car before Specs could protest. As Specs clambered into the other side, he looked at Dutchy.

"You want to go to work with me?"

"Work?" 

"Dutchy- I am going to _work_. I am going to my _job_. Whether I run myself over or not."

"I'll go with you!" Dutchy exclaimed, bouncing up and down on his seat. Specs sighed.

"Fine. Behave yourself though."

"When do I ever misbehave?" Dutchy glanced backwards. "Please make it a quick and painless death. I don't want to see you suffer."

"Wha-" Specs decided against asking. Turning on the car, Specs backed out hastily. The snowman imitation broke, with the body being run over, and the head rolling towards the side of the driveway. Dutchy gasped loudly.

"NO!" He made a move to unbuckle himself. "Your head!"

Specs forced him to stay seated. "Dutchy, you are staying in this car! Period."

"But… you're dead! And your head is just _sitting_ there." Dutchy protested, pointing towards the single ball of snow sitting at the edge of the driveway. Specs sped up.

"Given my job, I don't think I need it anyways," he muttered to himself. As soon as they got on the main street, he remembered why he usually neglected to drive Dutchy anywhere.

"Red light! Green light! Stop sign! PEDESTRIAN!" Dutchy practically screamed, pointing to a girl towards the side of the road.

"Dutchy!" Specs exclaimed. "She's not even crossing the street!"

"Be careful! We don't want your record to have both vehicular suicide _and_ vehicular homicide on it!" Specs nearly laughed at the true concern in Dutchy's voice.

"I swear I won't hit her."

"PEDESTRIAN!"

"LITTLE OLD LADY!" Specs yelled back. Dutchy turned quickly.

"Where?!"

"Under the car," Specs deadpanned.

"Specs! I can't believe you!" Dutchy rolled down his window, as if trying to look under the car to check. "You promised!"

"Whoops." Specs ignored Dutchy's whining, and focused on driving. Dutchy started to pout.

"Some friend you are. What if that was someone's grandmother? What if it was _my _grandmother? What if it was _YOUR_ grandmother?" 

Specs frowned. "My grandmother's dead."

"She is now!" Dutchy added. Specs rolled his eyes, deciding not to comment on that addition. They sat in silence for a few minutes; then Dutchy muttered again.

"Stop sign."

"What?" Specs flinched.

"Stop sign," Dutchy repeated.

"Where?"

"Back there." Dutchy pointed over his shoulder.

"No there wasn't." Specs frowned, checking his mirrors.

"Yeah huh."

"Shit," muttered Specs under his breath.

"Pointless point."

"Shut up, Dutch."

"Will not." Dutchy resumed his silent pouting, throwing furtive glances at Specs occasionally. After the rest of the trip was undertaken in silence, Specs pulled into the parking lot of a McDonalds. Dutchy looked out.

"You work flipping burgers?"

"No," Specs responded, getting out. "I work milking the cows for the milkshakes."

"That's so cool!" Dutchy's voice, however, was slightly sarcastic. Specs wondered whether it was because Dutchy knew that he was joking, or if it was because Dutchy frowned upon people who milked cows. Either way, Dutchy was brought abruptly out of his pout-fest.

"Okay, you go sit over there," Specs said as they walked in, pointing to a table near the play area. "I'll try to get a shortened shift today."

"Specs?"

"What?" Specs replied, somewhat impatiently. He was already late, and while not entirely Dutchy's fault, Dutchy was going to get most of the blame.

"I wanna play on the playground." 

"Fin—you what?" Specs did a double take.

"I want to play," Dutchy said slowly.

"You can't. You'd get stuck." Specs turned to go behind the counter. Dutchy's indignant voice spoke up behind him however.

"Are you implying that I'm fat?"

Specs realized that Dutchy already had his shoes off. "Put your damn shoes back on, Dutchy. And I wasn't implying you were fat any more then you were implying Race is with that snowman." Leaving Dutchy to ponder that statement, Specs went to work.

Dutchy, eventually giving up on his attempt to work out whether his best friend thought he was fat or not, realized that he was hungry. Wandering up to the counter, he looked up at the menu.

"Next." Specs sounded bored, Dutchy realized. He used this to convince himself to never get a job.

"Heya, Specs!" Dutchy stepped forward, too happy to notice Specs' quiet groan.

"What do you want?"

"Do you have anything free?" Dutchy questioned, raising his eyes to the menu again.

"Uh, no." Specs rolled his eyes again.

"Oh. I'm broke. And hungry. But I really don't want to go over and steal that little kid's food."

Specs sighed. "I will buy you lunch, Dutchy. Just pick something." 

"I want a hamburger!...Without pickles. No, wait, pickles are good. But I want fries, too. Pickles and fries. With a hamburger. No, no. No fries. Milkshakes are good. Aren't milkshakes good, Specs?" Specs stared as Dutchy rambled on.

"Uh, so what do you want?"

"Cheese. And pickles. No. Pickles are gross." The people in line behind Dutchy groaned; Specs winced apologetically. Dutchy's face contorted into a look of confusion.

"Wait. Are pickles gross? Depends on the kind. I want a hamburger!"

"Dutch- do you want a hamburger with pickles and cheese?" Specs tried not to sound too frustrated; tried, and failed.

"What's wrong with your voice, Specs? You sound tired."

"Dutchy, there are people in line behind you. I'm getting you a milkshake."

"Ooh." Dutchy nodded. "Milkshakes are good. What flavor?"

"We have strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate," Specs replied.

"Chocolate! No. Vanilla. But strawberries are good! Do your strawberry milkshakes taste like real strawberries?" Dutchy shook his head. "Agh! Another decision."

"Okay, Dutch," Specs smiled patiently. "I'm going to get you one of each kind, okay?"

Dutchy nodded eagerly. "Okay!"

But when Specs handed them to him, he frowned. "What am I supposed to do with three milkshakes?"

Specs groaned. "Drink them! Just… go sit down." Dutchy returned to his seat, pondering which of the three milkshakes he should drink out of first.

"Chocolate… vanilla… strawberry. Right? Yes. Brown… white… pink!" Dutchy tapped each of them on the lid, cocking his head sideways. "Too hard to choose." He shrugged, and picked up three straws. Putting them all in their respective flavors, he tried to suck on them all at once.

"Ugh. Doesn't work." He turned to the counter. "Spppppeeeeecccccssss!"

"What?!"

"I can't drink them!"

"Dutchy…" Specs rolled his eyes. "Go build a snowman."


	2. Feliz Navidad

**A/N: **And now for the second pair, acting in their usual childish manners.

**Feliz Navidad**

"No! I can't go down on _that_!" Mush protested, kicking the waxed saucer away from him. "I'll go down on a sled."

"Mush. We had this argument last year," Blink replied, dragging the sled out of Mush's reach.

"And I won."

"You went down in a saucer. Then, I think you insisted that we burn all sleds so that people could only use saucers." Blink shook his head. Mush actually had tried to burn one of the sleds- he just hadn't had any matches.

"Lies! Lies! They pour from your mouth!" Mush covered his ears. "Lalalalala. Not listening!"

"Sleds are no fun. You don't go as fast."

"And you have more protection when you crash."

Blink smirked. "I thought you weren't listening."

Mush stuck out his tongue. "I'm not. I was talking to… the snow!"

"And was it talking back?" Blink snickered as Mush looked offended.

"_Everything_ talks back to me when I talk to it." Blink decided not to respond to the slightly worrisome statement. Instead, he thrust out the blue saucer.

"Ride it, and like it." Mush snickered, but ignored the blatantly suggestive comment.

"Blinkee! It's too steep. I don't wanna go down!"

"Mush." Blink looked at the slope. "This is the kids' slope. The steep one is over there."

"Nah nah nah. I hate you." Mush crossed his arms, pouting. Blink sniggered- Mush's coat was so large that crossing his arms was an impressive feat. Mush stuck out his tongue again.

"Will you do it if I go first?"

"Maybe."

"Please?" Mush sighed, because Blink had mastered the single-eyed puppy dog look, and it was working.

"Fine," he complained grumpily. Satisfied, Blink sat down on the saucer. Mush spoke up again before he could start sliding, though.

"Who's idea was it to go sledding anyways?"

"Yours," Blink said dully, before pushing off. Mush watched him as he hit a large bump and gained some air. He laughed, however, when Blink wiped out upon landing, stirring up large amounts of snow.

"LOSER!" he shouted down at his friend, who was laughing.

"JEALOUS!" Blink yelled back, now wiping snow off of his jacket. Mush scowled.

"I can do it, too!" he complained to Blink once the blond had joined him. Blink raised an eyebrow.

"Can you?"

"Of course," Mush said, sticking his nose up in the air. "Gimme that." He grabbed the saucer from Blink's grip and put it on the snow. Turning to talk to Blink, he stepped on the disk, and it slid out from under his foot. Blink laughed as Mush got a face-full of snow.

"You can't even get started, let alone make it to the bottom," he said, as Mush coughed. Mush stood up again, grumbling.

"Damn saucer… getting in the way… stupid thing." He glowered at Blink. "Jerkface!"

Blink merely shrugged. "Just pointing out, you should probably sit on it before you try sliding."

Ignoring him, Mush sat down. "Watch this."

Before he had a chance to push off, Blink ran up behind him and shoved him. Caught off guard, Mush "eeped" as he began to slide rather rapidly down the slope. Blink saw where he was going, and couldn't restrain another laugh. Mush cried out as his saucer hit the bank and stopped abruptly.

"Oh yes. Ladies and gentlemen, your new Olympic champion!" Blink announced as he scrambled down to join a very red-faced Mush.

"I didn't see the bank."

"Obviously." Blink offered his hand out to Mush, who resolutely ignored it.

"Next time, I'm aiming you for the trees," he threatened, glowering at Blink.

"You wouldn't. You wuv me," Blink teased, waving a finger at Mush.

"Try me."

"Ooh, now I'm scared. Mushee's going to come after me! Run!" Blink tore up the hill, Mush struggling to keep up and not drop the saucer. At the top, he thrust it at Blink.

"Let's go, Paul Harvey. You've got a ways to go before you hit the big times." Scowling, he stalked towards the steeper slope.

"You know," Blink said, grinning. "It's a good thing I brought two saucers. That way when you burn the sled we'll have something else to use." Mush muttered under his breath, too quietly for Blink to understand, but he got the message; he grinned even more widely.

"Alright," Mush said, standing on top of the steeper slope. "You go down first. Give a shout when I can come. Since you can't see over that ledge."

"Fair enough." Blink sat on the saucer, watching Mush out of the corner of his eye, suspecting a revenge push. Mush made no move, just stood watching. Still, as Blink began to slide, he noticed a slight smirk playing around the edge of Mush's lips. Once bottoming out, Blink dusted off his pants, and lay back. The longer he could delay Mush's run, the more fun it would be.

Suddenly, he heard a loud shout coming from… almost directly above him. Turning, he saw Mush flying off the ledge. Giving a shout, he scrambled to clear the path of Mush's flight.

"Look out, Blink!" The next second, Mush landed, and bounced, catching Blink barely on the shoulder. As Blink winced, Mush stopped, throwing up snow, a wide grin on his face. "Sorry!"

"Bit late for that warning, jerk." Blink threw a snowball at him. "What happened to, 'I'll wait for you to call' before you went?"

"You didn't?" Mush's lie was see-through. Blink scowled. Mush shrugged.

"I didn't mean to hit you… that hard." Blink stared.

"You meant to hit me?" His voice was slightly offended.

"Not that hard!" Mush giggled as Blink lobbed another (off-target) snow ball at him.

"Fatty!" Blink called, a smile on his lips despite his attempts to stifle it.

"You know, you shouldn't look in a mirror and talk that way. It might hurt your self-esteem." 

"Mush, you use that as a comeback when there's actually a mirror around."

"Apparently not!" Mush laughed, starting back up the hill. Sensing Blink behind him, he started to sing.

"Feliz Navidad!" he began, loudly and off key. "I don't know this song!" He didn't lose the rhythm despite his lack of lyrical knowledge.

"Mush—" Blink laughed as Mush paused at the top, still humming. "Christmas was last week."

"That's relevant how?"

"Do you even know what 'Feliz Navidad' means?" Blink asked.

"No."

"Merry Christmas," Blink explained.

"Christmas was last week, Blink." Blink shook his head at Mush's misinterpretation. Not noticing, Mush continued, "You—"

Blink was already halfway down the hill.

"Blinkee! I wasn't done!" Mush started to run down the hill after Blink, forgetting about the saucer. "Come back!"

Three steps down, he tripped, and much to his friend's amusement rolled the rest of the way. When he had stopped, Mush moaned. "Ow."

"How are you hurt? You're wearing a freaking mobile marshmallow," Blink quipped. Mush scowled.

"It's not edible. Don't try."

"But it looks so yummy," Blink said. "Bite, please."

Mush smacked him upside the head. "Ew."

"Like you've never tried to." There was a pause after Blink's statement, and Mush's face flushed red.

"Leave me alone."

"You did?" Blink started laughing again. "Dork."

"Jerkface."

"Wasn't Dutchy the first to say that?"

"Dangit. Now I have to find a new insult," Mush complained. Blink snickered, starting back up the hill. Mush threw a snow ball at him, scrambling to catch up.

"Blinkee! I need to tell you something!" Mush called. Blink, finding a foothold, paused. Mush ran up beside him.

"And your important message was…." Blink looked at him.

"I don't remember." Mush squinted his eyes, trying to recall what he'd been so anxious to tell Blink. Blink sighed.

"You're a dork, Mush," he said. Mush rolled his eyes.

"And you're a spazz. I think I'll take the title of dork over that."

Blink shrugged. "You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mush questioned, struggling to keep up.

"You'll figure it out eventually."

They'd reached the top again. Blink laughed at Mush's insistent pout.

"It doesn't mean anything," he said, handing Mush the other saucer. "When you go down this time, don't forget to use this."


	3. Payback

**A/N: **And now for the utterly flaming duo… which isn't exactly flaming. But it's still for some reason oddly attractive. Go figure.

**Payback**

"No," replied Spot glaring.

"Why not?"

Spot glared some more. "Because I said so."

Race came over, a pleading look on his face.

"That's a pretty shitty reason. Since when does your say count for anything?" he asked.

"God died and I'm his back-up," Spot smirked in reply.

The boy at the counter tapped impatiently on the metal surface. "Can I please just have my drink?" Race replied before Spot could say something stupid.

"Oh, sure. What d'you want?"

"Coke." Race nodded, and moved towards the refrigerator. Spot seized his chance.

"That'll be twenty bucks," he stated, he face the epitome of seriousness. The boy gave him a skeptical look.

"It says here it's a dollar," he replied, pointing at the sign sitting on the counter.

"That's without tax, and commission for us workers, and the extra five bucks I need for a new CD," Spot pointed out, keeping up the charade. Race hustled back over before the boy could respond.

"One dollar," he said, shoving the can at the boy and looking bored. Spot flipped Race off as he made change and the boy walked away.

"You're no fun," Spot complained. "I really want that CD."

"Spot, you can make money in more honest ways then exploiting these people- who are all rabid church-goers."

"But those are all harder then exploiting them. Well, did you at least spike it?" Spot leaned against the counter, paying no attention to the elderly woman who had come up. Race rolled his eyes.

"Can I get you something?" he asked the woman, ignoring Spot.

"That's not an answer," Spot complained. "Yes, Spot I did spike the poor sap's drink or no, Spot, I don't have the balls to spike someone's drink at a church function."

"Spot, my _mother_ is here," Race shot back, handing a package of M&M's to the woman.

"Right. You don't have the balls. Like I thought," Spot smirked. He grabbed a can of Coke out of the fridge and popped it open. "Hand me a pack of Skittles, dumb ass."

"Sorry, dumb ass went out to dance. I can try to fill in for him though," Race said coolly. He held up a bag of the hard candies. "That's fifty cents. Wait… actually, a buck-fifty for the drink, too."

"I knew I shoulda gotten that five bucks from that kid," Spot retorted sarcastically. "Sorry, I'm going to have to pass up the glorious opportunity to pay and save my condemned soul."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that one before," Race replied.

"No you haven't. I am one hundred percent original."

"I… might have. Somewhere." Race shifted slightly uncomfortably.

"Sure. I mean, in this type of setting, just about everyone is trying to get their soul saved," Spot responded sarcastically. He snatched the bag of Skittles from Race, who scowled at him in turn.

"What are… you… doing?" Race asked slowly, as he watched Spot shift through the pile of colored candies in his hand. Triumphantly, Spot picked out two grape flavored ones and dropped the bag back on the counter. Grinning madly, he dropped the purple candies into his can of Coke.

"Ew." Race pulled a face. "That's the worst use of the most amazing food on earth."

"Fuck off, bitch," Spot growled, swirling the drink in his hand. "You're just jealous."

"You wish." Race winced inwardly at the weak comeback; Spot smirked.

"Laaaaame. God, Race, you're such a—"

"Brilliant person. I've heard it before." Race tossed Spot's phone to him. "Someone called."

"Yeah, for some reason that line sounds familiar," Spot replied, "Why the fuck didn't I hear it ring?" It was Race's turn to smirk.

"I stole it and put it on silent because you were being an ass."

"Fuck you!" Spot thumbed through his calls, before stuffing the phone back into his pocket.

"Knowing you, you'd like doing yourself better," Race replied, snagging a couple of Skittles from where Spot had left the bag.

"Bitch," muttered Spot. Before Race could reply, his mother bustled over, smiling at the pair of them.

"I'd just like to thank you again, Sean, for volunteering to help Tony out tonight. You two are doing such a wonderful job," she said, giving another simpering smile. "Just remember to keep up the positive attitudes, even though the night might drag on a bit."

"_Might_?" Spot muttered quietly, after kicking Race at the mention of how he'd been involuntarily volunteered.

"Don't forget to check in with me every hour or so with our profits, sweetie," Race's mother reminded, nearly pinching Race's cheeks as she walked away.

"Shut up," Race muttered preemptively. Spot laughed, taking a sip of his Skittle-fied Coke before replying.

"Whatever you say, _sweetie_," he mocked.

"Only for you, _darling_." Race's tone was forced into one of sarcasm; Spot saw him roll his eyes when he caught sight of the dancing couples.

"Oh, you'll get over it," Spot shot at him. He picked up the Coke and took a long drink; Race made a face.

"That's nasty. You're going to make me puke."

"Well, make sure you mop it up when you're done," Spot replied lazily, not even looking at Race. "It'd probably be bad for business if you left it there."

"Your sympathy overwhelms me," Race said.

"You're getting more than anyone else ever does. It _should_ overwhelm you." Spot took another sip.

"Spot- can you please drink that somewhere else?"

"Fuck that. You should try it," Spot retorted, smacking his lips.

"I should try fucking _what_?" Race questioned, trying to keep a straight face.

"Take your pick." Spot gestured around the area behind the counter. Before Race could reply, he continued, "No, dumb shit. I meant try the drink. It's good."

"I really doubt that," Race countered.

"It is."

"Not."

"Fucking is."

"Hot."

"What?" Spot paused for a moment, before Race's words registered. He rolled his eyes. "When it involves me, it is. Quite so."

"You do know you're famous for lying, right Spotty?" Race smirked as Spot flipped him off.

"Shut up, and try the drink." Spot held out the can before reconsidering. "Actually, make your own. This is _mine_."

"Now you're getting possessive of your drink. You really must be that desperate." Race sniggered as Spot threw a closed can of soda at him.

"Higgins, you are looking for a major ass-kicking," Spot threatened, but his grin was ill-concealed.

"Gee, Conlon, now I'm positively shitting myself."

"That's why there are bathrooms around the corner, Race. And that was only a tad too much information for my liking." Spot drained the rest of the soda in his can, and threw it at Race.

"Shit!"

"Bathroom, Race. Bathroom." Spot snickered as Race scowled.

"Shut up, Spot."

Almost subconsciously, Spot did a once-over of Race- the Italian boy was dressed in a slightly more formal manner than he usually was, though he hadn't by any means fully dressed up. In fact, in contrast to Spot, who was wearing his usual t-shirt and jeans combo, Race looked rather good.

"Hey, Race," Spot began, but he was cut off when a girl who looked to be about their age bounced up to the counter.

"Hey, Tony!" she greeted, before turning to Spot. "What's your name?"

"Sean," Spot said shortly. The girl grinned.

"So Sean, you wanna dance?" she asked, standing up a little straighter and tossing her hair over her shoulder, in what Spot assumed was some attempt to make herself pretty. In his opinion, she failed miserably.

"Fuck no," he spat, raising an eyebrow.

"Why not?" she asked, apparently surprised.

"Yeah, why not?" Race echoed, grinning. Spot glared at him for a moment, before he was struck by a bit of genius inspiration.

"If you'd come a moment earlier…" He looked at her questioningly.

"Adrienne."

"Ah. Adrienne, if you'd made it over here a minute or so earlier, I would have most certainly agreed. Unfortunately, I promised Tony that I'd dance with him." Both Race's and Adrienne's mouths fell open. Spot had to mentally restrain himself from laughing.

"Tony what?" Adrienne looked lost as Spot grabbed Race's hand, snickering inwardly at the look on the shorter boy's face.

"Practically begged me to dance with him. How could I refuse? I mean," he continued, grabbing Race's face with his other hand. "Who could resist this awfully tempting face?"

Race made a face. "Spot—"

"Yes, sexy, we can go now." Jubilant with his success, Spot dragged Race out from behind the counter, turning to Adrienne, who looked utterly stunned and confused. 

"But, wait—" she started. Spot cut her off.

"You're right! He is! Would you mind watching over things until we get back? Didn't think so. Toodaloo!" Spot dragged Race towards the dancing couples.

"Why the fuck am I doing this again?" Race asked as Spot searched for a free dancing place, as they reached the center of the dance floor.

"Because you volunteered me to work tonight," Spot replied. "Payback's a bitch."

**A/N: **Go try the Coke and Skittles! Seriously! It's pretty much amazing! And by pretty much I mean completely. Do it!


	4. Slopes

**A/N: Awww, the last thing Miniola and Toxin will be able to write for a while. sniff But it's yummy Jack and David, so you've got to love it! General disclaimer… don't own… etc. Oh! And random ****Princess Bride**** reference. We don't own that either. Oh well. Enjoy the story. **

**Slopes**

For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, David landed on his face in the snow. Without looking up, he could imagine Jack standing over him, laughing. When he_ did _look up, he didn't have to imagine it. Jack skidded to a stop next to him, and plopped down onto the snow, unlatching one side of his snowboard.

"Gee, Davey," he said, still laughing. "For someone as smart as you, you seem to be having a lot of trouble figuring out that you have to _turn_ to avoid things."

"Like trees?"

"I only ran into a tree once. Do you have to keep reminding me of it?" Jack scowled slightly, and it was David's turn to laugh.

"Once, twice, four times. Not much difference."

Jack stood up again, watching David struggle to stand up with his skis. David floundered for a moment, only succeeding in sliding another foot or so down the mountain.

"Need help?" Jack asked. David shot him an indignant look.

"No." A couple more seconds of struggle ensued.

"Maybe," David finally admitted.

With a triumphant grin adorning his features, Jack slid downhill of his friend, bracing his snowboard against the other boy's skis and using his other foot to stop them both from sliding. He offered his hand, which David took gratefully.

Unfortunately, Jack had miscalculated, and they both landed in a mass of entangled body parts and ski equipment a couple more feet down the mountain. David glared at Jack.

"Ow?" Jack winced as David smacked him accidentally with one of his poles. David grimaced.

"Sorry." He managed to get on his feet, and offered a helping hand to Jack. Jack turned it down.

"You're not on your ass, and I'd prefer to keep it like that," he said. "Besides, I'm not as inept at standing up as you are."

David glared, but didn't dare attempt to shove Jack for fear that he'd fall again. "Let's just keep going, okay?"

Jack nodded, strapping his free foot to the snowboard. "As you wish."

"That's a Princess Bride line, Jack."

Jack shrugged. "It's a good movie."

"Okay, yeah, it is," David had to agree finally. "You ready?"

Jack nodded and began his decent down the mountain once again. David watched for a moment as he went, thinking for a moment that Jack was the only person on earth whose ass could look so fine in snow-pants. David shook his head to clear his mind, before starting after Jack.

"Eiiiiiieeeiiiiiieiiiieeeiiii!" David turned sharply to avoid what looked to be a ten year old disguised as a multi-colored blur. Kids on the ski slopes were scary. He scanned the snow ahead of him, looking for Jack's easily distinguishable red jacket.

While doing so, he forgot to pay attention to what he was doing, and managed to cross his skis. He fell again, in a cloud of snow. Coughing ever so slightly, he looked up. Jack was nowhere in sight. Muttering about the unreliability of his friend, David tried to get up. He started sliding.

And once he started sliding, he couldn't stop himself. After a few failed attempts, David didn't even try. Instead, he braced himself for the inevitable thump of his body hitting another tree or rock or person. Looking up, he saw who that person was going to be.

"Holy shi—" Jack's curse was cut off as David's weight plowed into his knees; the two went sliding down another few feet before Jack managed to stop them. Glaring at David, he muttered,

"And I was just thinking that nothing else could go wrong."

"Well," David shot back. "That's the most stupid thing to think. Whenever you think that, something is bound to go wrong."

"Yeah, karma, I know."

"Uh, Jack, that's not what karma is." David shook his head as Jack ignored this point. David suddenly realized that Jack had not been alone when he had been so… suddenly… interrupted. His friend was shooting longing glances back up towards the point of impact, where a tall, thin blonde was looking back at him disgustedly.

"Oh," David said, "Uh, my bad." He flushed, as he realized what exactly he had interrupted.

Jack muttered something under his breath before turning up to the girl. "This is my pal Davey. He's a bit unsteady on his… skis right now."

"Smooth. Because I'm not on my feet of course," David mumbled. Jack thumped him upside the head.

"He's got a bit of mouth."

"Uh huh." The girl merely nodded. David noticed the slightest bit of flush creeping up Jack's neck. Rolling over, he struggled to his feet, using Jack as leverage.

"Well, I think I'll just uh, meet you at the bottom. If I don't kill myself on the way down." Without waiting for a response from Jack, David pointed his skis downhill and felt them pick up speed. He was too preoccupied to watch where he was going as his skis caught on a patch of ice.

"Shit." David felt his skis slide out from under him and he landed on his back. "Ow."

Not having the motivation to move, he just lay in the snow, hoping that he wouldn't get run over. In some ways, lying in the sun was nicer than fighting a losing battle with his skis. Sooner than he would have liked, a shadow blocked the sun from his face. Opening his eyes, David raised an eyebrow when he saw who it was.

"What happened to your friend?" he asked in a slightly frustrated manner. Jack held out a hand.

"I didn't want you to actually make good on that threat to commit ski-aided suicide. Besides, I've always liked brunettes better."

David wasn't sure he could trust the implications of that sentence. Nor was he sure that he could trust taking Jack's proffered hand, recalling with an inward wince what had happened the last time Jack had tried to help him up. Regardless, he grinned and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Not your type, huh?" he asked, before deciding it was worth the risk to take Jack's hand.

"Nah." Jack grinned back, successfully pulling David to his feet without managing to topple them both over. They lapsed into a moment of slightly awkward silence.

"So you think you can make it the rest of the way down?" Jack asked finally. David shrugged.

"If I walk, then sure," he joked, half-meaning what he said. Jack laughed.

"That's the last thing you're going to do. See, this is why you should snowboard." He started moving down the slope again. "You can do things like this."

David braced himself for some trick or showy move which Jack had perfected; he didn't expect Jack to promptly run into a tree.

"Owwwww…." Jack moaned weakly. David snickered.

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick to my skis. At least then they hit the tree before I do." All that Jack offered in return was a vague hand movement, causing David to laugh even harder.

"You know," David continued, "I never thought you would try to attract girls in the "look how pitiful I am" manner, but I guess I was wrong."

Jack had managed to struggle to his feet, and he shot David a hurt look as he shuffled over.

"That kills me, Davey," he pointed out in a slightly joking tone, placing a hand over his heart. David shoved him lightly.

"Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can make it to the bottom before dark."

"Hey!" Jack cried indignantly. "I could have made it way sooner if I hadn't been waiting for you."

"Sure you could have." David raised an eyebrow. "And how many trees would you have killed on the way?"

David started off before Jack could reply, making his way toward the end of the slope, which was just in his sight.

"Would you stop bringing that up!?" Jack yelled after him, speeding ahead and only managing to fall right in David's path. David turned sharply to avoid him and was able to remain upright.

Finally they both successfully reached the bottom of the slope. David sighed wearily, clicking off his skis.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked, clearly confused. David spoke slowly, in small words and short sentences so as not to further the confusion.

"Taking off my skis?" he said. Jack flipped his hair. He was clearly frustrated, which made David grin a bit.

"I meant, why?" Jack clarified.

"I'm not doing that again," David pointed out, as if the idea was completely preposterous, "There's no way!"

"Come on, Davey," Jack said in a convincing tone. "Don't you think we should try something other than the bunny hill today?"


End file.
